Where Do We Go From Here?
by Amy Renee
Summary: The brothers can't help but wonder as Dean grows emotionally weary and Sam's nose is bleeding.


_Where Do We Go From Here_

Tag for "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester."

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Sam or Dean.

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The look in his brother's eyes had said 'I'm sorry.'

Dean hadn't doubted that Sam had tried to use the knife, it laying on the ground several yards away from where Sam had held the demon off was testament to that, but Dean had doubted just how hard Sam had tried not to use his abilities to kill the demon.

The look in Dean's eyes hadn't gone unnoticed either. Sam saw the fear, the anger, but above all, the dissappointment. Sam hadn't meant for it to happen, especially not for Dean to see. He had managed to break his promise to him. Again. The last person in the whole world that Sam had wanted to look at him like he was a freak now saw him as just that.

Dean was angry, sure. He felt betrayed but mostly, he was scared. Sam had said he was done messing with his powers. He had said it was like playing with fire and Dean had felt relieved that Sam understood that. Yet he had used them again, and to banish Samhain, who was certainly more powerful than your average demon, and Dean had had an unwilling front row seat. If Sam was that powerful, there was no telling what else he could do, or what he could become for that matter. But his little brother hadn't exactly held Samhain at bay and sent him back to Hell with shear mental aptitude leisurely. Dean had seen the pain using his abilities at that intensity had caused his brother; Sam was holding on to his head, seemingly in more pain than he had been in during any of his visions, and he looked ready to keel over. It wasn't until Dean watched the blood pour from his baby brother's nose that he thought there may be another cost to using these abilities.

The big brother in him wanted to rush over to Sam, but he didn't move, he couldn't, unable to fully process what he had just seen or what it meant. So they just stood there, apart, locking eyes with each other, searching, not able to look away but wanting to do nothing more. Sam with guilt in his eyes, Dean with betrayl, but both with fear.

It was Dean who finally broke the contact and the silence by looking down and saying "Let's go" before turning and walking away, not waiting for Sam's response. Not that Sam responded. Sam spared one last glance at the lifeless body on the floor in front of him, wondering briefly in the back of his mind if it was worth it and followed his brother. They had stopped certain mass death, but Sam felt no pride in the victory.

As they drove back to the motel, Sam looked silently out the passenger side window as Dean stared straight ahead at the road. They hadn't spoken since leaving the cemetery. Neither of them knew what to say. There was nothing to say, nothing to make this okay for either of them.

Dean was worried about his brother and these abilities of his even more now, scared shitless really. It was as if these abilities had manifested even stronger and were taking his brother further away from him while he wasn't looking. He felt like Sam was slipping through his fingers. As much as it scared him and as much as he didn't want to acknowledge the possibility, he was beginning to realize that these abilities of his brother's weren't something they could stop or ignore. What if they got stronger and just started happening more and more? Like in instances like this one where Sam is cornered and given no option. Could they happen as an impulse? Dean felt like he was fighting a losing battle, his father's last words to him echoing in the back of his brain.

After they had gotten back to the motel, Sam had gone to the sink outside of the bathroom and wet a spot on a hand towel under the faucet, wiping away the last of the dried blood from his nose. Dean sat on one of the beds and glanced over at his brother, then away.

"So has that happened before?"

Sam stopped and looked into the mirror for a moment before he placed the towel on the corner of the sink.

"No" Sam answered quietly. Dean nodded once and let out a sigh. Sam turned away from the mirror, studying his brother. Sam had been half expecting another crack to the jaw, yelling, anything, but Dean just sat there, silent.

"Just say it, Dean." Dean looked at him.

"What's there to say, Sam?"

"You're pissed" Sam said for him. Dean snorted.

"Oh, and now suddenly you care how I feel?"

"I do care, Dean!"

"Really?" Dean inquired as he rose from the bed and stepped towards his brother, "Because it sure doesn't feel that way."

"Dean, what was I supposed to do?"

"I told you, use the knife!"

"I tried!"

"Are you sure about that?" Dean asked with a low indignant tone. Sam flashed an irate and offended expression.

"If I had moved I would have lost my hold and Samhain would have killed us all!"

Dean laughed but it held no humor and he ran a hand over his face as he quartered away.

"Dean-"

"No, Sam!" Dean spun back around. "Its like you've forgotten how to hunt without these 'powers,' like you don't even care about the consequences, like you've given up on being normal!"

Sam flinched a bit at that. Normal. That was all Sam had ever wanted. One would think that Sam would do everything in his power not to use his abilities, not to stray so far from anything close to normal.

"I'm beyond ever being able to be normal" he told Dean coldly, almost sadly. If Sam knew anything about these abilities, it was that.

It was Dean's turn to be surprised but he didn't show it, he only shook his head, looked away, then looked back at Sam. Sam vaguely wondered if he should prepare himself for another punch after all, but it never came. Instead, Dean only looked at him with something akin to pity. Sam's defensive expression lessened upon seeing his brother's face and how his eyes blinked to look lower than Sam's. He placed his fingertips below his nose as he felt something warm and wet run down his upper lip. They came away red. Dean shook his head.

"This is gonna kill you, Sammy" he said sadly in almost a whisper. He walked past Sam, picking his jacket up from the table and stopping at the door. He hesitated, barely looking back for a second, before he opened the door and shut it behind him, leaving Sam standing alone in the room.


End file.
